


Old News

by Sylphid



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Making up absurd news articles to mess with your husband
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-06 23:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17354540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylphid/pseuds/Sylphid
Summary: Married life for Daichi and Suga starts with coffee and news. Daichi refuses to evolve past the newspaper, and Suga wants to take advantage of that.





	Old News

**Author's Note:**

> It's literally just fluff, so... sorry 'bout that >.<

“ _Coffee has been shown to improve mood in 90% of daily drinkers._ ”

Daichi hums in agreement, the noise muffled by his mug as he sips at his brew--coffee and hot milk. His other hand holds the day’s newspaper, its black and white stories blocking everything but his wrinkled nose and furrowed brows from Suga’s view.

The hiss of the coffee maker grinds to a stop, and Suga sets his phone down. “Obviously, you must be part of the 10%.”

Daichi frowns. “I’m perfectly happy.”

Suga laughs as he pours his coffee into a light brown mug. “And yet, every morning, you sit in that ragged chair,” he starts, gesturing to Daichi’s faded red recliner, “and you sulk. It can’t be good for your skin, Dai.”

“I don’t _sulk_ \--”

“ _New study shows that sulkers are more likely to suffer from pigheadedness_ \--”

Daichi groans and lifts his newspaper higher, so that the rest of his face is obscured. “And bothersome husbands,” Daichi adds gruffly. “Where are you getting these ridiculous headlines anyway?”

“A place you could never reach with your flip phone and that shoddy paper of yours,” Suga muses with a smirk. He sips at his coffee--no cream, no sugar. Blunt as his tongue, but he’s never been one to sugarcoat things, whether it’s his words or his drink. 

Suga stares at his husband, his fingers tapping some tune on his mug. He’s not sure where it comes from--perhaps the fourth movement of Debussy’s _Suite bergamasque_ \--but it’s quaint and it’s quiet and it’s just the right amount of _incessant_ to get a groan out of Daichi. 

“I thought my mornings were supposed to be more peaceful when I got married,” Daichi sighs. He sets down the newspaper to put both hands on his warm mug. “No one warned me about your ancient taste in music--”

“My music has aged perfectly, just like my husband.”

Daichi rolls his eyes. “You’re older than me, babe.”

“And yet, children flock to me and run away from you,” Suga jeers. “You’re an old man who reads old news and has a sad face,” he continues, walking over to sit on the arm of the chair.

“A sad, _handsome_ face,” Daichi says with a dry chuckle.

“I never said you weren’t handsome,” Suga mutters, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of Daichi’s lips. “Just sad and old.”

Daichi hums again, blushing as he rubs at his mouth.

_Sad, old, handsome, and quite the blusher._

“Alright, _gramps_ ,” Suga relents, hopping off the chair, “you can get back to your old-person news. Just don’t expect to find anything interesting.”

Daichi shakes his head and picks up his newspaper. “Two and half years of marriage, and I’m already a senior citizen.”

Suga smirks and thinks of the ashy hairs he’s plucked off Daichi’s head in the early mornings. He’d always scrunch his nose and bunch up his shoulders at the affront, but Daichi would never open his eyes. He’d just settle again, his sun-dappled skin warm on his husband’s chest, and his breathing soft on Suga’s cheeks.

He walks back to the counter, opening up his news app again and letting out a warm coffee sigh. 

It’s quiet for a bit--Daichi’s eyes track his grayscale accords; Suga’s, his glowing articles. Occasionally, Suga will sneak glances at Daichi, at his sharp jaw, at his soft, stern eyes, at the dark, bristly undercut that he suffered after losing a bet to Noya. _Still have to thank him for that one_ , Suga thinks, some pink blooming across his cheekbones. He doesn’t notice Daichi stealing similar glances over the rim of his mug.

Suga slides finger up the screen, bypassing a run of spam articles--moreso than the first one he called out, he thinks--trying to find another title he can bother Daichi with.

“ _Local brothel using new, unusual tactics to hire staff._ You interested, Dai?”

“I’d only take one customer,” Daichi states, keeping his eyes on the paper.

A wicked grin slithers onto Suga’s face. “Asahi?”

Daichi closes his eyes and sighs. “Asahi.”

“Frankly, I’d be upset if you let anyone else defile you,” Suga adds, shrugging. 

“Now, now,” Daichi starts, sipping his coffee, “Asahi could hardly forget to thank his grocer for bread, let alone _defile_ a man.”

“An _old_ man,” Suga quips.

“Exactly,” Daichi relents, lowering his newspaper to his lap, and he pauses to squint his eyes. “Don’t old men get like, free foot massages or something?” He eyes his own feet before raising an eyebrow at Suga.

In response, Suga hops onto the counter. “Only from people that care about them,” he coos, kicking his feet gleefully over the maple hardwood.’’

Daichi lets out a soft _humph_ , ruffling up his paper and holding it in front of his face again. “Well, I guess that means you won’t be getting one either, hm?”

Suga pouts. “Only ‘cause I’m not old.”

That gets a snort out of Daichi. It’s not a sound Suga’s heard in a while, mainly since Daichi actively avoided doing it at his new nursing job. Suga tried to convince him that kids would love to have a pig nurse, but for some reason, it never went over well.

Now that he thinks about it, there’s a lot of things Daichi doesn’t do anymore; butter his toast, take baths, iron his dress shirts, use that honey scented body wash-- _I need to buy him more_. There’s something about a perfect husband, Suga thinks, that smells like honey.

Suga takes another sip from his coffee.

It’s quiet for a moment, but it’s a long enough moment for both of them to return to their news, which admittedly, is getting to be a bit much for Suga--it’s hard to find your feet when every other article tells you that your favorite vegetable is giving you inflammatory bowel disease.

‘Course, it’s also hard to find your feet when your husband starts sharing _his_ article titles.

“Huh… That’s odd,” Daichi mumbles, narrowing his eyes and scratching his head.

“What?”

“ _Young men with gray hair are ten times more likely to be mentally challenged_ \--”

Suga spews some of his coffee all over the counter. “You made that up.”

Daichi just raises his eyebrows and lets out a long breath. But there’s a smirk from the devil himself that’s hiding behind the paper, and Suga would give his right arm to wipe their coffee-laden counter with it.

“It does _not_ say that,” Suga reiterates, a bit hysterical now. He springs off the counter and courses towards Daichi. “I want to _see_ where it says that!”

“Babe, babe, calm _down_ ,” Daichi laughs, conveniently turning to the next page in the newspaper. “That story wouldn’t have interested you; it just prattled on and on about how men that go gray early are a bane of society--”

“Okay, first off, I’m not _going_ gray, I’ve _been_ gray,” Suga interrupts, his smile and his eyes far too wide. He lunges for the newspaper, but he misses and tumbles right into Daichi’s bear hug.

Daichi lets out a loud, full-bodied laugh that shakes Suga’s frame. He continues, making sure to talk directly into Suga’s ear: “-- _smelly_ , bad at card games--”

“You’re the _worst_.”

Daichi nuzzles Suga’s neck before blowing a huge raspberry onto his pale skin. He murmurs the rest of the list into Suga’s extremely mussed up hair: “Childish, impatient, ditzy, _and_ a bit of a mess.”

“ _Dai_ ,” Suga whines, putting a lot of breath into the long e sound. He pushes at Daichi’s arms with all his might, but he hasn’t lifted a set of weights since Daichi dragged him under a barbell at the gym, so it does little to help his situation.

“But!” Daichi pauses to look his husband in the eyes, despite Suga’s intense gaze, which is fixed on anything but Daichi. 

But that man’s eyes are too old and sad for any sane person to ignore. _Heavier on the conscience than that awful barbell_ , he thinks. Suga turns to look into those soft shades of russet.

“But?”

He cracks a smile. “Study says they’re cute, and they have a thing for old fools.” Daichi plants a soft kiss on Suga’s forehead. “So, I guess I can let it slide.”

Suga scrunches up his nose, trying to use his wrinkles to hide the vast sea of crimson that’s painted on his face. But he can’t hide the smile that’ll be stuck on his face for the rest of the day.

“It’s still not a real article,” Suga murmurs.

“Real to me.”


End file.
